


Come Through

by deltau



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Exes, F/F, Fluff, Rock Bands, Romance, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltau/pseuds/deltau
Summary: Bonnie runs a free hand through her hair, a nervous gesture, as she took in Marceline’s words, her voice and her presence, which was so sudden it was like she had conjured her ex like some demon from the underworld out of sheer thought—and tried to ignore how her own heart was beating erratically under Marceline’s hopeful gaze.“It’s fine, I’m not busy. Let’s go inside. You can park your motorcycle next to the car, if you want?”Bonnie heads up to her doorway, too anxious to wait for Marceline to fetch her bike. But before she goes inside, she steals a glance behind her and sees Marceline taking something from her bike and dumping it in the neighbor’s garbage bin, making her wonder.





	1. Chapter 1

To anyone who knew her and wasn’t up to date with the recent developments of her life, it would come as a surprise that Bonnibel was on her fifth week of yoga classes—she was driving home from a particularly pacifying session, enough to give her an extra patience boost to withstand the 8 AM traffic when everyone was headed to work. If you ask her, she’d say yoga was rewarding, uplifting and easy. What she wouldn’t tell you is that it was _easy_ because it was exactly what she needed when she started out: an outlet, one that particularly targeted the mind and not just the body for improvement and overall well-being. Now it had become a habit, and it did not hurt that some aspect of it required a bit of focus which she had always been very good at.

But she wouldn’t shy away from saying that she wanted to look good too. She grew out her hair which she had died pink during college and now it was mostly just her natural blond, with only the ends pink. She kind of missed it, but felt that the change was good. Now that she had the time, she wanted to sweat away all the toxic fumes she had been exposed to from lab work at the company where she used to work as a chemist, and she wanted to change that fact that her muscles were well on their way to atrophy from being cooped up indoors for research or lab work for several years, never finding the time to exercise.

She had quit her high-paying job but swiftly landed another one even before she tendered her formal resignation. Her higher ups consistently told her for years that she was an asset to the company. She had celebrated her early promotion with her friends from college who were still in town and they took her to a nightclub where she carefully measured her water to alcohol ratio. She ended up being drunk anyway, enough to end up on a girl’s lap solely for the reason that said girl had dark but short hair and countless tattoos on her arms, but Bonnie forgot her face. In the morning she regretted it and cursed herself for these moments where she clung to the vestiges of the past.

Several months after her promotion, one of the directors, a hawk-eyed man with an abrasive voice, one of those who ingratiated her with praise on her skills, asked her to check their inventory and take stock of a sundry list of chemicals. Suspicion bubbled at the pit of her stomach as she went over the list but she gave it the benefit of the doubt and complied with the seemingly harmless request—everything was on hand and in abundance. Then he asked her if she could make “magic” out of it, left a thick manila envelope on her desk at the lab. He never explained the word but Bonnie figured it out after taking one last look at the list before crumpling it in shock and frustration.

So she quit. She was no Walter White and she never would use science for illegal ends. Another company snatched her up by offering a 2-year contract with pay 40% higher, not that she needed it, but it was a huge “fuck you” to her last company who was obviously morally loose enough to tolerate a criminal intent. But her new contract didn’t start until 2 months later since she had managed to resign from her old company earlier than expected, and the new company was awaiting the next board meeting to create a position especially tailored for her. Less time in the lab, more paperwork, but more freedom with her time since she didn’t have to bring any homework if she didn’t want to, although she had a feeling that old habits would die hard.

So in the meantime, she had time to take a trip to Germany and Switzerland with her parents, get in shape, catch up on Philip K. Dick novels (and some trashy sexy romances that she would never ever admit to which she hid behind a thermodynamics textbook), go to movies with her friends, listen to new music—ordinary pleasures that she missed out on for a purpose, which to her were made precious because she was deprived of them.

She hit the brakes on her car as another red light glowed ahead. Two more intersections before she would reach home. She switched on the radio and channel-surfed until she heard a familiar song. It was a rock music channel and she wasn’t particularly into the genre but the song was from a band she actually knew—a byproduct of her time with her ex, Marceline.

She knew Marceline had made it big. In fact it was hard to ignore Marceline’s ubiquity. Her band was all over the airwaves as of late and her friends had sadistically pushed her to head on to YouTube to watch one of their music videos, the one where Marceline sang while she drove a car, a perfectly maintained vintage muscle that looked achingly familiar, with a blond girl and punk rocker making out in the backseat; where Marceline crooned the dark and sexy song from the stage of a pulsating nightclub, her band behind her, and on the dance floor the same blonde and punk rocker were looking into each other’s eyes wordlessly; where Marceline finally cried out the last few lines which spoke of vastness and uncertainty, as the couple swam naked in the ocean just as the sun rose up from the horizon—evocative reflections of the past. Most of Marceline’s songs were of some distant past, reprised beautifully in sonically disparate, but essentially analogous compositions fronted by a surprisingly minimalist image that the alternative music scene couldn’t get enough of.

She couldn’t help but scan through other videos of the band. There was a 3-minute clip of Marceline being interviewed backstage before one of their shows wearing a white deep v-neck tee, eyes behind shades, her hair in a ponytail, beer cup in hand.

> **Q:** Name your influences.  
>  **Marceline:** Material for the band is mostly inspired by Deftones, Incubus, the like. For my solo stuff, it could be anything really, A Great Big Pile of Leaves, Japanese math rock, past relationships, heck even Drake.  
>  **Q:** Past relationships? How about any present ones?  
>  **Marceline, with a half-grin:** Sometimes. But I’m keeping a low profile on the dating scene. “Responsibility demands sacrifice”, as they say—

Bonnie didn’t finish the whole clip.

Ironically, after they broke up, she had been active on the dating scene. Not in the sense that she traipsed around publicly with dates, but she was eager to prove Marceline wrong about her—that she was actually capable of having a personal life that wasn’t overtaken by school or work, mostly because school was over and work was easier on her schedule. She had a successful 3 months with Braco, after she dumped two suitors, one from her graduate class and another a colleague at her old job. Successful to her, because at the back of her big brain, she expected them to last a week at most, since it was mostly Braco who took the lead seeing as she could not place as much enthusiasm into their thing as she did with a research problem. It was like she was content with the simple fact that their friends knew they were “going out” and leave it at that. They never fought, they had a lot in common, and sex was a little boring. Sometimes she imagined long dark hair and light skin slapping against her own, instead of Braco’s short brown hair and tanned complexion, imagining that it was rough makeup sex with her imaginary lover just to make herself orgasm.

Afterwards she would roll her eyes at her own miserable ways. It happened too many times that it was no longer a big deal. It didn’t mean anything except that she still found her ex hot, which she was, fame and all.

She was a prideful sort, of course, but she was more honest with herself now. Maybe it was the fact that she had actually had time to think about herself now, or maybe it was the yoga. Or maybe it was the devastation she went through after she and Marceline broke up. It was even harder knowing that her ex wrote songs about her. Marceline wasn’t always subtle with her lyrics in the past. Now, 4 years later, her songs were more open to interpretation, but some of them still sounded like a shared memory. It killed her sometimes, and she’s grateful that it’s only sometimes now, mostly happening when she got drunk, a disposition she never sought out by her own volition but from the prodding of friends.

Marceline was far away, living her dreams, the ones they used to fantasize about together, the ones where Bonnie was always a part of, at least that’s how it was during pillow talk and long drives. Marceline always made her feel like she was part of everything she was doing. It made her sad thinking that her own life hadn’t much room or time for Marceline save for the gigs she attended (the schedule given way early by Marceline just to ensure Bonnie’s attendance), quick dates and a few trips they took together, not including lunch which they had together almost everyday during the year that they dated. Now here she was, rueing the day Marceline left, almost strategically at the point of the break down of their strained relationship, in the same town where Bonnie opted to stay, dating a string of people who never had a chance in the first place. Strategic in a way that the chance to fix it came too late.

She justified their break-up somewhere along the lines of “incompatibility” or “irreconcilable differences”, coined words more befitting of a tabloid zodiac or a lawsuit. If she really thought about it, which she refused to do nowadays—except now that she was in the car and a familiar rock song involuntarily conjured up memories—it was the intermittent way that they fit, a way that made them feel both hopeful and frustrated, never a good combination. When things were good, they were so very good—Bonnie thought she was made for this tall, dark and beautiful musician who turned her knees into jelly with a look, who made her forget about alpha and beta decay when she would scoop her up into a kiss she couldn’t help but pop a leg, who dominated her and made her gasp obscenities in German while they were tangled up in bed.

But she never had enough time to satiate Marceline’s growing need for her presence, and Marceline never had any patience to wait around until she had something like a one-hour window in her schedule. Marceline had her own stuff going on and talks of a possible record deal excited her and she wanted to share that feeling with Bonnie who was still climbing up to reach her own denouement while her research work saddled her on the way, and she refused to lose her momentum. She kept saying that this was all temporary, that once she was done with everything, she could do whatever she wanted and she’d have all the time. By the time Bonnie did have such time, Marceline had already left for the big city and Bonnie’s tears from their last bitter phone call had dried.

The last green light pulled her out of her thoughts and she finally reaches her home, a wide and spacious one-story house that her parents bought her after she graduated from undergrad despite her insistence that she live some place less extravagant. It had three bedrooms, a basement and a fireplace. At first all the space made her feel extremely lonely, it made her miss her old dorm, and she often slept over at her friend Lady’s place, but after a rowdy housewarming party that she had no hand in and several visits from relatives, she finally appreciated the solitude after the fuss about her new house quieted down.

Bonnie coasts up the driveway and doesn’t bother parking inside the garage since it was still early. She ponders going out for lunch later as she switches off the engine and steps out. She grabs her gym bag and her purse from the back seat. When she turns around, she sees Marceline standing on the sidewalk not five feet away from her. The purse slipped from her hands.

“Dammit,” she cursed as she bends down to pick it up.

“Sorry,” Marceline immediately utters with an open palm, feeling awkward and realizing she must look like a sore thumb wearing all black amongst the shrub-and-tree-lined street of neutral-colored houses where Bonnie seemed to fit in, as she was wearing white sweatpants and a tight pink spaghetti top with her hair in a loose bun. She looked fucking great.

To Bonnie, however, she looked like an apparition and her eyes were wide with surprise as she retrieved her purse and stood on her driveway, staring at Marceline.

“Uh. Hi Bon.” A toothy grin.

“Are you for real?” Bonnie asks incredulously, taking a step forward but decided against going further.

Marceline scratches the back of her neck contritely. “Sorry for popping in like this, I was just about to leave when nobody answered the door,” she jabbed her thumb in the direction of a dark red motorcycle parked two houses down underneath a tree. “Then I saw your car coming and I went back to check if it was really you. If you’re busy, I can just come back another time, if that’s okay.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of jeans and shrugged.

Bonnie runs a free hand through her hair, a nervous gesture, as she took in Marceline’s words, her voice and her _presence_ , which was so sudden it was like she had conjured her ex like some demon from the underworld out of sheer thought—and tried to ignore how her own heart was beating erratically under Marceline’s hopeful gaze.

“It’s fine, I’m not busy. Let’s go inside. You can park your motorcycle next to the car, if you want?”

Bonnie heads up to her doorway, too anxious to wait for Marceline to fetch her bike. But before she goes inside, she steals a glance behind her and sees Marceline taking something from her bike and dumping it in the neighbor’s garbage bin, making her wonder. When Marceline parks her bike next to Bonnie’s white compact, the door was open for her to enter.

_______________________

Bonnie was itching for a warm shower now that she had a guest. Before Marceline came in, she had sniffed her pits and was grateful that she didn’t reek, but she felt a little sticky from her morning session and she avoided showering in places that wasn’t her own house if she could help it.

She had set her belongings on the floor beside the door to her laundry slash storage room and came back to the living area where Marceline stood, her leather jacket thrown over the sofa, her hands still in her pockets while she looks around her home.

“Nice crib, Bon.” Marceline remarks appreciatively as she emerges.

“Thanks, I decorated myself,” she takes a quick glance over her own living room, happy that she had won against her initial urge to saturate it with pink and instead opted to retain the house’s whites and neutrals with just a few coral trimmings here and there.

Then she glances at Marceline. Marceline whom she hasn’t seen in what felt like ages. Marceline who doesn’t seem physically or sartorially different despite her band’s rise to fame. She still wore a lot of black—jeans, a short-sleeved button-up that revealed her blackwork tattoos, leather jacket, a crisp new pair of Vans. The only thing different about her which Bonnie could notice at this point was the careful look in her eyes when she regarded Bonnie. She watches Marceline explore her living room with interest, notes how the current exercise benefited them both by prolonging the inevitable question of why the hell she was in town, let alone in Bonnie’s house.

“Hey, I remember these,” Marceline’s voice is tinged with glee, a tone that made Bonnie smile as the rockstar in her living room perused a portion of her bookshelf that housed a few random items that she was fond of seeing, so much so that they hadn’t been stashed away in the stock room but displayed here in the eclectic corner of her living space.

Marceline picks up the object that caught her attention, eyeing it with a silly grin. A pair of heart-shaped sunnies in pink plastic that Bonnie wore at a music festival. Marceline’s own round-shaped ones with rainbow lenses got lost in the jumping and thrashing about as the sun was rapidly descending upon them in that crowded field, with the band finishing its set with an electric number, Marceline’s hands planted firmly on her hips as she pocketed her heart-shaped glasses before cheering loudly over the music.

When Marceline places them back on the shelf, Bonnie snaps out of it and asks, “Do you want a drink? Hungry?”

“Water is fine. Not hungry yet.”

Bonnie nods before she heads to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Their hands touch when Bonnie hands it over. She tries to ignore how it lingers on her skin and invites Marceline to sit with her in the dining area.

“I was going to make coffee, but I realize I’m out,” Bonnie pouts as she remains standing, leaning against the chair perpendicular to Marceline’s.

“That’s alright, we can go out to get some if you want,” Marceline offers quickly, like it was an opportunity to sort of ask her out, but not really.

“But I haven't showered yet. I was at yoga earlier.”

She couldn't help but notice the way Marceline’s eyes roamed quickly over her body before she says, “Wow, that sounds rad. Actually I got into cross fit for a while but I couldn’t keep up, and shows always take their toll on me for days.” Marceline laughs at herself, eyes still lingering below Bonnie’s face before looking up. Marceline herself doesn’t notice how Bonnie’s own gaze took in her toned and tattooed arms, but then again Bonnie was an expert at hiding what she felt.

“You can go ahead and shower. I’ll wait for you. I’m in no hurry,” Marceline continues, crosses her arms and leans back on her chair as if it was a done deal. Bonnie was glad for it.

“Really? Okay I’ll just be really quick, 15 minutes!” She hollers while she rushes toward her room, leaving Marceline to wait.

_______________________

“Did I take too long? I’m sorry,” Bonnie deliberately draws out, not feeling very apologetic since the shower calmed her nerves and made her think clearly. Before the shower, she felt like she was hallucinating Marceline’s presence in her house, but of course she wasn’t, her brain just wasn’t fully prepared to accept the fact that her ex, her black-clad, toned and now oddly laconic ex just showed up at her house after 4 years, that now that her mind had cleared, she wonders how Marceline knew her new address, and just why in world is she here, bringing what had looked from a distance to Bonnie a bouquet of flowers which Marceline ditched into the dumpster at the last minute. But she didn’t want to think about that, not yet.

Before she stepped out to rejoin Marceline who had wandered back into the living room, she had to tell herself several times, ‘This is nothing. Nothing. Maybe she has a show here and just wants to invite me and everyone else. K.’

Marceline didn’t say anything about her 30-minute shower and seemed indifferent about it.

She didn’t want to admit that a good chunk of that time was spent overanalyzing and convincing herself to stop from doing just that. It was a slow day. But Bonnie couldn’t blame herself. It wasn’t like she prepared for this moment. At least, it wasn’t like how she imagined it.

They both decide to take Bonnie’s car and leave the motorcycle. The sky was cloudless but Bonnie had a feeling that their choice of transport had something to do with her companion’s fame and nothing to do with the weather. Marceline asks her about the old cafe near the university they used to frequent and Bonnie decides that they go there. The place was owned by Betty, who was practically family to Marceline. Luckily it wasn’t that far a drive. She had run out of small talk. So far, Marceline had explained to her that she stopped by her parents’ house first and found out from Bonnie’s mother where she lived, and that she had just settled at her hotel downtown before she headed out to look for Bonnie.

It was still 9AM, the cafe’s opening time, and when they step inside no one else was there except the barista whom Bonnie recognized as Elle.

“Morning! Hi Bonnibel. What can I get you ladies…Holy shit, it’s Marceline Abadeer!” The barista, a girl of about 18 with dyed purple hair gasped and held her face, apparently starstruck at Marceline who was chuckling in embarrassment.

Elle notices her expression and giggles. “Sorry I’m just a huge fan of The Scream Queens. You probably get this a lot huh? Bonnibel, why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with Marceline Abadeer?”

“I had no idea she was coming. She just showed up at my door,” Bonnie smiles with a shrug.

“We’ve known each other since college, so I decided for a surprise visit,” Marceline explained.

Elle gazes at both of them, a knowing expression spreading on her face. Bonnie starts shaking her head, but Elle paid her gesture no mind.

“Oh I _see,_ ” she remarks with a smirk and left it at that. “Um is it alright if we take a selfie, Marceline?” She fished out her phone from her pocket.

Marceline’s eyes shift from side to side in slight panic behind her sunglasses. “I’m afraid we can’t, I’m sorry, uh,”—Marceline glances at the girl’s name tag, “Elle. Sorry, Elle. My manager says I have to keep it on the DL in the meantime. Can you keep this a secret?” Marceline flashes her an infectious grin that Bonnie swears made Elle look all giddy.

“Oh, I totally understand! It’s cool, Marceline, I can keep a secret,” Elle raises her palms up, but Bonnie knew for a fact that Elle was known for gossip. Elle drops her voice and asks, “Is it because you have something big planned out in town?”

“Something like that. You’ll find out soon enough,” Marceline winks at her. which was visible even behind her dark glasses. Bonnie was laughing but inside she felt like puking at Elle’s obvious infatuation.

“I can’t wait, if it’s a show I’ll totally be there! Oh, I almost forgot your order!”

_______________________

After Marceline dodged another attempt by Elle at a selfie and got them two coffees and a fresh pack of coffee beans for Bonnie, they head home in a hurry since Marceline was reluctant to be spotted by a fan again. Bonnie was grateful for the incident, really. They had something to talk about on the way home, but Marceline had groaned about it knowing that it’ll probably be all over social media in no time, something exaggerated like “Marceline Abadeer back in hometown; The Scream Queens split?” or “The Scream Queens singer spotted with blonde groupie”. Bonnie swatted her arm for the last one.

They settle back in the dining area, Marceline pulling out a chair for Bonnie who grinned and raised an eyebrow. Marceline just shrugs and sips her coffee, her eyes peering at Bonnie behind her cup.

“So, Abadeer. Explain yourself.” Bonnie remarks finally.

Marceline glances back at her and twists the cup in her hands. “We have a lot of shows planned out here and in a few neighboring cities, mostly surprise ones, which our manager hates me for.” She laughs like it was all her idea. “So I wasn’t completely lying about what I said to that barista earlier.”

“Why, what was the real reason?” Bonnie asks.

“Gossip spreads like wildfire. You seemed to know that girl and she’d probably blab about us. I don’t care about gossip but sometimes it can get on your nerves, you know?”

“Right, I can imagine. And Elle is like the queen of social media.”

“Well, shit,” Marceline sighs. “I hope you’re ready for some juicy gossip about us. There’s probably paparazzi hiding in the bushes outside.” Marceline purses her lips pretending to look serious.

Bonnie rolls her eyes. “That’s just crazy. So what else do you have planned?”

“Well, apart from that, we’re also shooting a few clips here for a new music video. Thought it’d be cool to include my hometown somehow. I miss this place a lot,” Marceline says, truly serious this time. “And I wanted to see you too.”

Bonnie feels her insides flip, noticing just now that she had been fumbling with the zipper of her open hoodie since they sat down.

“Lucky you came at a great time,” she manages to smile. “I’m in the middle of some sort of sabbatical. I quit my last job and I’m just waiting for my new employment contract to start in about a month.”

“Really? Why’d you quit?”

“One of the directors asked me to manufacture meth under the table. Can you believe that?” Bonnie shakes her head remembering. “He actually thought I’d ‘break bad’.”

Marceline laughs at the reference. “He went to the wrong girl for that. Well, I’m glad to see you relaxing. Honestly I expected you wouldn’t be available today. And I’ve been kinda dying to say this but, you look great Bon.”

“Thanks, Marcy. I guess I really needed the time off,” Bonnie tries to go for nonchalance and fails as her cheeks grow warm.

Marceline grins at her blush, a familiar half grin that Bonnie recognizes from the smug old Marceline she used to know. She welcomes the familiarity but shoves Marceline’s shoulder in embarrassment. “Cut it out.”

She just laughs at her. “Can I take you out to lunch? For old times sake?”

Bonnie thinks of all the times in the past she had declined Marceline’s offers to take her out on dates—how engrossed she was that she chose to miss out on Marceline’s sweet smile and silly jokes and the way she’d stare at her like she was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen, and thinks how this time she doesn’t deserve another chance at that feeling. But she doesn’t hesitate. “Sure thing Marcy.”

Marceline looks relieved at her answer, like she expected a ‘no’. She reaches across the table to grab Bonnie’s hand, but their fingers barely touch before Marceline’s phone rings.

“Shit,” Marceline retracts her hand and stares at her phone screen. “It’s my manager.”

“Oh, go ahead take it. I’ll just get these,” Bonnie waives a hand dismissively and takes their coffee cups away before heading to the kitchen to dispose them.

Marceline answers the phone in a frustrated tone. Bonnie couldn’t make out what they were saying but she had a feeling their date would be cancelled. She sighs as she drops the two cups into the bin below the sink, realizing that she felt more disappointed than she should be. Minutes later Marceline follows her into the kitchen with a rueful look, holding her phone out as if it was an offending object and explained that she had to go back to her hotel to confer with her bandmates who had just arrived from the airport—something about their set lists and practice schedules that needed to be settled today.

Bonnie leans back into the kitchen counter as she explained, nodding in understanding, assuring her that it was fine, they’d catch up next time, and she tries to ignore how close Marceline was standing in front of her that she could make out the shadows under her eyes, eyes that roamed her body as Bonnie talked.

“… so it’s totally fine, Marcy.” Bonnie concludes.

Marceline nods and runs a hand through her hair. Bonnie could feel Marceline’s breath in their proximity and she notes the way Marceline dropped her gaze on the floor stuck in a thought before speaking.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to see you again,” Marceline says as she leans a hand against the counter right next to Bonnie’s hip. Bonnie blinks, unsure what to do.

“Um, I’ll just give you my number. You can call me when you’re free.” Bonnie reaches for her back pocket where she stashed her phone, seeing as she suddenly can’t recall her phone number, and when she turns back around, Marceline has already trapped her with both her hands on the counter.

Marceline had that careful look in her eyes again as her gaze shifted from Bonnie’s eyes to her lips which had involuntarily parted under Marceline’s attention. Somehow it occurs to her that Marceline wasn’t pleased by the fact that she always thought there was a next time. To the Marceline she knew, if there was a hint of a chance at something, she would jump on it—you could never tell with tomorrow.

Bonnie interprets Marceline’s hesitation as a plea to meet her halfway, and she does. She places hands on Marceline’s face and pulls it down as they kiss, gentle and chaste as Marceline trembles. Bonnie grips the front of her shirt in a fist, dropping more little kisses on Marceline’s chin as her knees threatened to give way and she couldn’t for the life of her find the strength in them to stand on tiptoe to any longer.

“Bonnie,” Marceline breathes out on her lips. “Are you seeing any one?”

Bonnie shakes her head. “Are you?”

“Nah,” Marceline answers as a dangerous hope bubbles up in Bonnie’s chest. But Marceline doesn’t meet her eyes. “Can I call you tonight?”

Marceline’s phone rings again and she threatens to smash the damned thing if not for Bonnie. It’s odd how succinct their conversations had been, as if most things needn’t be said out loud despite the years that had stretched between them. They shared another kiss in the doorway, this time one Marceline took for herself, desperate hands resting on Bonnie’s waist, and Bonnie felt how full of intention it was before Marceline finally said goodbye, promising to call her. Bonnie goes back inside, takes a deep breath and fights the urge to check her neighbor's garbage bin.


	2. Chapter 2

Marceline may have changed a great deal over the years, but she still prized time as dearly as ever. 

The band didn’t meet until after lunch, much to Marceline’s frustration. She’d been yanked away from her visit to Bonnibel’s, quite rudely and in the middle of the agonizing process of gathering enough nerve to take Bonnie’s hand after she’d agreed to a date, which had to be cancelled because of the band meeting. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had other appointments earlier that day. Guy, their rhythm guitarist, had gone straight from the airport to his friend’s house which had a mini skatepark. He tripped on his board and when he bailed, he landed on his side, resulting in a scratched elbow and sprained fingers on his left hand. 

After they wrangled out a couple of set lists and practice schedules, their manager arranged for a quick photo shoot at a studio a few buildings down for promo material. It wasn’t quick enough for Marceline; it took 3 precious hours she could have spent catching up with Bonnie who, to her ultimate surprise, had all the time to hang out. Ironically, it was Marceline who didn’t.

If Marceline had it her way, and if not for the band’s early trip the next day, she would have gone straight back to Bonnie’s house and continue what they’d started that morning. Particularly on Bonnie’s kitchen counter where the gorgeous blonde had leaned back and stared up at her expectantly, like she knew Marceline was going to make a move and was just waiting to be claimed right there, the way she’d claimed her years ago without hesitation, without the notion of caution that burdened her movements now, as it did when she had to wait for Bonnie to close the remaining half-inch gap between them before they finally kissed.

While she generally didn’t know what to expect from their hometown show, she knew one thing for sure. People would be surprised with how she’s changed.

She had quite a reputation during college as an insufferable jerkface, as Keila, the band’s lead guitarist, had eloquently labelled her the first time they met. Though the guitarist quickly found that it was the perfect attitude for a frontman, they butted heads for a while before finally getting along, which was as per usual with Marceline. Abrasive charm, Bonnie would later call it, not fondly but genuinely, when they also exchanged ripostes during one of their earlier encounters. It was that reputation she had shed. If she looked back, it wasn’t deliberate. More like she grew out of it. Her gratitude at having her dreams fulfilled one by one when the right people started appreciating her music helped with that.

But this tour felt like it would be different. Their tours went predictably enough, but those cities were filled with strangers. This was home this time. They were in the streets they grew up in, saw familiar faces and old watering holes and the people of whom they had indelible memories. It made her nervous knowing that she’d be playing for folks who’ve known her for a long time because coming here, she had one basic goal: don’t screw it up.

Keila had assured her that it didn’t matter now since most people saw her in a new light. But that wasn’t a fair assessment in Marceline’s opinion. Her relative fame overshadowed it, but didn’t erase the fact that she’d been a prick. Some nights she could laugh it off, but sometimes it haunted her like bad karma waiting to strike. Her journals were filled withlines of nostalgia and remorse which eventually made their way to her songs.

Their drummer Bongo would just shrug at her when she got into her good karma/bad karma junk. “Got a bass line for that? I’ll give you a beat.”

Guy on the other hand couldn’t help but agree with her. “Yeah, you had the ego the size of a _kaiju_. But I guess that came with your ambitions? I dunno man, you kinda propelled the band into hyperspace with your pimp ship, so I can’t complain.”

Four years might be a long enough time for some people to completely dissociate themselves from an occurrence, but Marceline had showed up at Bonnie’s door carrying the memory of their abrupt break-up in her hands which she felt largely responsible for. The first word she’d spoken to Bonnie had even been an apology.

Things had ended badly between them. Having Bonnie as a girlfriend was an exercise in restraint—or so Marceline had thought before. She only had her sometimes, and sometimes wasn’t enough. To Marceline, it cooled shit out, but then she’d see Bonnie again and was back at being crazy about her. 

A lyric from one of her songs went, “Let me penetrate and break that superego with my id, it was her crown for all to see and she took it off for me.”

Her impatience was the coup de grace, though her pugnacity and temper certainly chipped away at their crumbling relationship then. Sometimes she was convinced that she and Bonnie were living in different dimensions where time ran differently. Hers took on a hard linear route that seemed destined to run out any moment. Bonnie took things slowly and with care, from the way she dressed to the words she spoke, to the way she handled Marceline at her worst like no one else could. It was that ability only Bonnie possessed that made Marceline selfish of her time, hounded it and demanded it, running Bonnie ragged and frustrated.

Now Marceline wonders if it was too late to show her how sorry she was.

How sorry she was indeed to have left at all, when Bonnie was looking deliciously pink from a work out in clothes that failed miserably to hide her curves. It didn’t escape Marceline’s eyes that when Bonnie had dropped her purse and bent down to pick it up, the blonde had involuntarily given her a delicious sneak peek, though unlike before, she’d restrained herself from speaking her mind. 

But nothing could have made Marceline reproach herself even more than Bonnie’s warm welcome. A good kind of nostalgia had flooded Marceline into lightheadedness when they were in Bonnie’s car talking about the people the knew and the places they used to hang out. And she was so achingly single and available that Marceline’s eager mind prematurely concluded that some sort of coalescence was happening, like everything she had worked so hard for led her up to that moment when she finally tasted Bonnie’s lips.

It made her want to lose control all over again.

_______________________

 

“I’m going ahead, guys. I’m beat!”

Marceline opens the hatch of her car to place her bass inside, feeling how tired she was. She grimaced at how late they finished band practice. Guy’s injuries weren’t bad, but he grew sluggish on the fretboard. Marceline had to take over and play his parts by ear just so they could practice the entire set list for tomorrow’s show in the next city. Their manager was worried about the turnout for the surprise homecoming show, but the band assured him that hordes would turn up. This was their city—they’d come through even if the show was announced on the same damn day.

Their last visit was about two summers ago, at a show with other local bands in the lineup, long before they got signed by a major label. They weren’t one of the main acts but much to Marceline’s surprise, the crowd knew the words and shouted them back at her as she sang, and they nodded their heads and jabbed their fingers in the air in time with the breakdown. The crowd’s warm reception gave her such a rush of vindication that she grew addicted to it, sought it out everywhere from anyone who showed interest in their music or in _her,_ and when an especially cute girl would mention the solo stuff Marceline put up online, Marceline sought the rush even more, and nothing was more indicative of a warm reception than having a naked girl in your bed.

After a while, women didn’t cut it. At their shows, a guy everyone called Magic Man, a friend of their producer’s, started showing up at after parties with a bunch of groupies and a handful of pills in tow. While Guy and Bongo never bothered, claiming it made their dicks malfunction, she and Keila went for it with blind enthusiasm and Magic Man always delivered. But it didn’t take long until they kicked their after-show habit however, since the events that transpired during the last time they got high almost ruined their friendship.

Keila comes up behind her, guitar case strapped to a shoulder. “You alright?”

Marceline closes the hatch before turning around to face her bronze-skinned bandmate. “I’m fine. Just tired. I thought we’d finish early tonight.”

Keila gives her a curious look. “Did you have somewhere to be?”

Marceline shrugs and glances at her watch. 15 minutes until 11. “Not really. I just wanted to go to bed early.”

“Oh, so you’ll be at our hotel tonight? Because I was going to hitch a ride,” Keila cocks her head at Marceline’s car. “Guy and Bongo are staying at Bongo’s parent’s house tonight.”

Marceline’s brow furrows as she looks over to where Guy and Bongo, their drummer, were packing up their gear at the back of their van. Although Marceline didn’t mind riding in the van, she decided to drive today, hoping she’d have enough time after practice to swing by Bonnie’s again instead of just calling her. Her watch told her that she didn’t.

“Sure, Keils,” Marceline manages a small smile and opens up the hatch again for Keila’s guitar. 

The other girl gives her a sidelong glance, keen on Marceline’s hesitation. “Marceline. If it’s about that thing—”

“I said yes!” Marceline interjects with played up shrug, not wanting Keila to bring up what she was obviously thinking.

Keila blows out a breath and places her guitar inside the car. “You know, I hate how awkward we get—”

“I’m not awkward,” Marceline opens her palms out in surrender, feeling a little exasperated. “Seriously, just get in the car. I just want to get some sleep.”

The drive to the hotel was mostly silent except for a punk album playing in low volume. Marceline hits the brakes at a stop. 120 seconds until the light turns green again. Keila was shifting in the seat beside her, brimming with the urge to talk.

Marceline drums her fingers on the steering wheel and sighs. “Okay, just say what you want to say.”

She feels Keila’s gaze on her and then she doesn’t. “Alright, I know it annoys the fuck out of you if I bring this up, but will you please just try to act normal around me? I mean, we got along just fine for a while and now this… this thing again. It sucks.” Keila spits out the last word in annoyance.

Marceline leans against the window, eyes closed. Keila was right. It sucked having little awkward moments like this with your best friend, though Marceline usually avoided admitting it. It didn’t happen a lot, and the last time they were awkward was… well, she couldn’t remember anymore.

“I didn’t mean to come off awkward. I might have seemed hesitant back there because I was thinking about something. I brought my car to practice hoping maybe after, I could drop by at Bonnie’s again.” She throws a glance at Keila who looked surprised. 

“So that’s where you were this morning. You should’ve said so, you dingus,” Keila socked her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you thought I’d be jealous, because I swear I’ll—”

Marceline cackled. “Aren’t you though?”

“You wish, you prick.” Keila shot back.

“I think I just got a little worried about what she’d think of me if I tell her all the crazy shit we did the past 4 years,” Marceline laughs quietly. “And that would include your little attempt to seduce me a few months back—”

“Wow, aren’t we the cocky old asshole?” Keila scoffs. “Maybe I’ll tell Bonnibel how _you_ miserably attempted to convert a non-sober straight girl to your sinful ways just after Fionna rejected your ass.”

“Hey, that is not true! I wasn’t even that into her, let alone _you_!” Marceline exclaims in a butt-hurt tone and glares at Keila, knowing that she meant to bruise her ego on being rejected twice that night, but is quickly cut off by the green light. 

She put the car in drive before turning back to Keila who was chortling at her now instead of her earlier unease at the topic, a development Marceline was grateful for despite being one-upped. One thing she learned the hard way about relationships—swallow your damn ego or watch them walk away from you. She could now talk shit with her best friend just like they should.

“Everyone just looks hot when I’m high and when I get sober, bam! Ugly as fuck.” Marceline winces while Keila agrees with a groan, and they both go into their respective experiences with a distorted reality that deterred any future involvement with whatever Magic Man offered. After gravely avowing that they would never get high again, especially with each other, they finally rack up the nerve to put the cringe-worthy incident between them to a close.

“Seriously, Mars, I don’t get why we had to feel so awkward about it for a while.”

“It’s because you’re a closet gay, Keils,” Marceline declares as if it was the solemn truth. “Just look at your nails. They’re super short!”

“Yeah, okay, and it’s not because I play like the most _important_ instrument in the band. Yeah, you totally make sense Marceline, wow.”

“Most important? Excuse me, but that happens to be _my voice_ —”

They continued to bicker until they were at the hotel lobby where one of hotel guests, an old lady, rightly told them to shut up.

 

_________ ______________

 

After an ill-advised glass of dutch courage at the hotel bar Marceline plucks up the nerve to dial her ex.

After few rings, Bonnie’s sweet voice is on the earpiece. “Hello, you.”

“Hey Bonnie. I’m really sorry I called so late. Were you sleeping?”

“No, but I was just getting ready for bed,” Bonnie explains in a cute drowsy voice. “Don’t worry about it.”

She feels guilty but can’t help feeling all melty inside. “You sure about that? You sound all sleepy and adorable.”

“Well now I feel awake.” A soft laugh. “Really it’s fine. How are you?”

Marceline’s face erupts in a grin she can barely control. “I’m okay. We had practice a while ago, it’s for tomorrow’s show a couple town’s over. It took longer than I expected. Guy screwed up his hand so I had to take over his part.”

“Oh, what happened to him?”

“He tripped while he was skateboarding and landed on his left hand,” Marceline explains. “Hey, what about you? Anyone else take you out for lunch?” She asks in a glum tone, remembering their cancelled lunch.

“No, I didn’t really go out,” Bonnie answers softly. “I went to my parents’ house for lunch after you left. I figured I should tell them what you were up to in town. They had a lot of questions after you asked for my address.”

Marceline had always liked Bonnie’s parents and they liked her right back. They were nice, cosmopolitan folk who were totally cool with Bonnie’s sexual preference and Marceline’s tattoos and wild hair.

“Yeah? Were they good questions?”

“Hmm, I suppose,” Bonnie says simply, refusing to elaborate. “They said I should invite you over for dinner sometime.”

Marceline bites her lip giddily and leans back into her pillows. “I would love that. Seriously. Thing is, I’m not sure when I can do that yet. Things are still pretty crazy and we’ll be away for a couple of shows. I’ll update you, okay?”

“Sure. You’re welcome there anytime, you know my parents.”

“Yeah, coolest pair ever.” Marceline says gratefully. 

A pause. “Marceline? Why’d you throw a bouquet of pink roses into the Pendletons’ dumpster?”

“What? P-Pendletons, you say?” Marceline laughs nervously as she mentally kicks herself in the head. She was caught. She had bought it on impulse when her taxi passed by the local florist on her way to the hotel from the airport because she was reminded of Bonnie, and she even contemplated writing a note despite having no idea whether Bonnie was seeing anyone, let alone where she lived.

“Yes, silly. My next door neighbors. You know, where you parked your motorcycle?” Bonnie was giggling over the phone now, obviously not buying Marceline’s act.

“Ohhh, right. Right, that. Well—” Marceline pinches her brow. Stupid. “To be honest, they were for you, but I chickened out.”

“But they were beautiful. I would have loved them. Now they’re all covered in the Pendletons’ junk.” Marceline could hear the pout on Bonnie’s lips.

“It just felt like I got overexcited. I headed straight to your house bringing you flowers, after like 4 years. Who knows, you might have had someone over or something. I don’t know.” Marceline mumbles uncertainly. “I regretted not giving them to you only after we kissed.”

Bonnie sounds incredulous. “What, can you say that again?”

Marceline frowns uncomfortably. “Um, I regretted not giving them to you after we kissed…?”

“I'm sorry, but can I speak to Marceline please? Marceline Abadeer? I don’t think this is her,” Bonnie feigns in a voice brimming with suppressed laughter.

Marceline grumbles, knowing exactly what she meant.

“What?” Bonnie finally laughs at her own joke. “I’m just surprised. I don’t ever think I’ve ever seen you stop yourself from doing what you wanted. When you showed up on my driveway this morning I was expecting you’d comment on my outfit or my hair or something.”

“Yeah well, maybe I’ve changed,” Marceline shrugs to herself, remembering distinctly what Bonnie wore that morning. She had comments, alright, but she’s learned a thing or two about keeping them to herself at certain moments now, and this morning was one such moment.

When she started dating Bonnie, they never had an “awkward phase”. Marceline pursued her relentlessly and wasn’t shy about it. The Marceline 4 years younger was a brash, upfront and rather cocky business major in her graduating year from a neighboring university, an attitude that resulted in frequent petty squabbles with a prim and conscientious Bonnie whose chief concern at the time was to maintain her stellar GPA while managing a few extracurriculars. Marceline had a penchant for making distasteful remarks about Bonnie’s anatomy when the latter adamantly ignored her advances, and it was this tactic that earned Marceline a deliciously flustered Bonnie who would finally look (or glare) at her before storming away, giving her a nice view of the blonde’s shapely ass.

“If that’s true, then I think that’s why I felt so awkward around you. It’s like I’m meeting you for the first time. You even move different, you know?” Bonnie chuckled at her, but not unkindly. “You had this _prowl_ before, this gangsta limp—”

“ _Lean._ Gangsta lean.” Marceline corrects with a sigh, deploring her old antics.

“Oh right, that’s what you called it!” Bonnie exclaims in hilarity. “And now it’s like, well, you move just like Pep, all mindful and smooth—”

“Pep? Your family butler, Pep?” Marceline can’t help but laugh along now, imagining herself in the butler’s clothes drinking tea, pinky sticking out while spewing pompous nonsense. 

“The one and only.” Bonnie’s giggles eventually dissipate into a sigh of recollection. “Hey, Marcy. Remember how mean you used to be?”

Marceline snorts. “How do you know I’m not mean anymore?”

“Well this new Marceline apparently can’t give a girl flowers until they’ve kissed,” Bonnie remarks cheekily. “And the one I knew before would practically steal kisses and make some distasteful remark.”

Marceline sighs in surrender, happy to get Bonnie so engaged in their phonecall but not about being in the hot seat. “All right, tell me all about it.” 

“See? You’re not even arguing with me,” Bonnie points out triumphantly. “God, you were so mean before, not to me though when we started dating, but remember that trip we took during spring break?”

“Barely. I think I got permanent brain damage on that trip.” Marceline laughs.

“Duh, you were showing off how ‘macho’ you were by guzzling 80 proof tequila. Then you puked on a cactus and got needles on your chin—which served you right because of what you did to those poor tourists!” 

Marceline barks out a belly laugh remembering. She and Bonnie had driven up to a beach town for spring break, down south where it was bright and sunny and everyone was in swimwear. Marceline brought her trusty Rover but they left it at the hotel, knowing there would be copious amounts of alcohol at the beach where the party was. 

Before they could head out, they met a long taxi line, the only one for miles so they had no choice but to wait. Bonnie left a grumbling Marceline to hold the line to pick up something from a nearby convenience store, planting a kiss on a clenched jaw with a cheerful “Bitte haben sie geduld, baby.” A moment after Bonnie left, the large group ahead of the line apparently heard the phrase, as a portly middle-aged woman turned to Marceline and asked if she spoke Deutsch. She didn’t understand a word so Marceline kept shaking her head while the Germans, apparently tourists who looked to be lost, gesticulated and spoke a smattering of English until finally Marceline made out that they were looking for a certain tourist attraction. Marceline knew it was miles away, but she told them it was just within walking distance, pointed at the direction of nowhere and gestured with her hands “a left, then another left, then turn right at a corner, and you’re there!” The group happily followed her instructions and left the taxi line, making way for Marceline just as Bonnie got back from the store, donning new sunglasses. “What happened?” “Nothin babe. C’mon we’re next in line.”

“That was horrible, Marceline!”

“Oh yeah, didn’t hear you complain we finally got that taxi. You said I was a genius!”

“Well, your mean streak did become useful at times…” Bonnie hums but it turns into a yawn.

Marceline smiles into the phone. “Hey, you should get some sleep. You know, before you can say any more about me being a mean kid.”

Bonnie sighs. “But I was just getting started.” Another yawn. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye yet but I guess it’s getting late,” Marceline says quietly thinking of the long drive tomorrow. “Call you again sometime?”

“Sure. You can call anytime.” Bonnie’s voice is heavy with sleepiness again.

Marceline can’t help but say “Can’t wait to see you again. I miss you, princess. Good night.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bonnibel was starting to hate the abundance of time on her hands.

She knew it was doing her a lot of good to wake up in the morning having literally nothing that needed to be done, except maybe her hair or her nails, if she felt like it. But her days had no structure. One or two appointments and the rest of the day she was free. A stack of thick sci-fi paperbacks were on her bedside, their spines creased from being read cover to cover. Her house was immaculate. She still had a couple of weeks’ worth of groceries and Marceline had taken care of her coffee supply.

It was only two nights ago that she and Marceline talked on the phone, an insignificant span of time in the context of how long they hadn’t seen each other. But Bonnibel knew it was why she suddenly sought to be preoccupied instead of relishing her freedom. Lately she found herself scrolling through her text messages with Marceline, biting her lip and smiling uncontrollably. The musician made it clear how Bonnie was constantly on her mind. It made her will the clock to tick faster, closer to whenever she could see Marceline again.

From her last text she was still on the road with the band. They were on their way back home but were in no hurry as they freely made meandering stops on the interstate, even stumbling into an open mic at a dingy roadside bar with a one-eyed bartender. Even through text, Bonnie could feel how stoked Marceline was while she and her band aimlessly explored new turf. So no, she couldn’t very just tell her to hurry back when she was having so much fun.

 _Is this what it feels like to wait?_ She wondered.

She couldn’t recall a single incident when she had to wait for Marceline. It was always the other way around. It was mildly unpleasant. She was never comfortable in uncertainty. Her impulse to know things sometimes walked a thin line between pure curiosity and fear of not knowing enough. The current object of that impulse was Marceline who seemed both new and familiar. She wanted to explore both aspects of her with a surprising urgency she felt was misplaced, fully knowing she couldn’t summon Marceline to her door with a snap of her fingers like she so easily did when they were still dating.

She wasn’t the center of Marceline’s attention now. She knew of nothing else when Marceline was still trying to win her over.

So it was a welcome change in routine when Lady invited her over for a poolside brunch. She was more than happy to forego her usual morning yoga in favor of dip in the pool.

But so far since she arrived at the Su residence, after a satisfying brunch and some catching up with Lady and her boyfriend Jake, she still hadn’t let go of her phone. She was already in her favorite one-piece swimsuit and was reclined on a pool chair—still texting nonstop. In fact, she was in the middle of adding a flirty emoji to her reply when Lady splashed water towards her.

Bonnibel gasped in surprise and held her phone away from the pool. Droplets fell on her legs.

“Hey! You could have gotten my phone wet!”

Lady rolled her eyes at her from the edge of the pool, her long platinum blonde hair almost touching the water as she dipped her legs. “Your phone does not belong within five feet of the pool. Are you even a real genius?” She goaded her best friend playfully.

Bonnibel huffed and quickly pressed send before she placed her phone away in her bag.

“You never heard me complain when you were FaceTime-ing Jake in the middle of the night when we were still roommates,” she grumbled. Somewhere from her bag her phone beeped again. Marceline replied just as quickly as she did.

“You’ve been on your phone since you got here and the whole point was for us to hang out because I missed you.”

Bonnibel rolled her eyes. “We saw each other last week but yeah I miss you too, you lovesick fool.”

Lady’s cheeks pinked slightly. “I know, but I haven’t seen anyone else but Jake for a week. He’s become so clingy since we got engaged.”

“Haven’t you been to work?”

“Yes of course, but cutting people open isn’t exactly socializing.” Lady tossed a glance towards the far end of pool and lowered her voice. “My parents want to kick him out of the house because he won’t leave me alone.”

Bonnibel laughed before feeling apologetic. She wasn’t a stranger to how protective Jake was which sometimes bordered on the extreme. She could easily imagine what he’d be like if he and Lady would have kids.

“And here I thought it was a good idea to let you guys enjoy each other for a little while after you got engaged,” she grinned.

“‘A little while’ should be like a few days. But a week? Ugh.” Lady groaned half-heartedly and dropped her gaze pointedly to her crotch. “I don’t even want to swim today. I’m too sore down there.”

Bonnibel gasped. “That didn’t sound like a complaint to me!”

At that moment, Jake emerged from the other end of the pool and swept the hair out of his face. He waved at Bonnibel.

“Morning, Jake.” Bonnibel smiled at him.

“Hey Bonnibel. Wanna do some laps? Lady’s scared I’ll beat her record.” Jake grinned and tried to dodge the glare Lady sent his way.

“She was just telling me about that, she said she was—” Bonnibel began but Lady quickly cleared her throat to interrupt her.

“I love how you’re just a text away these days, B. We should go out more often.” Lady segued and smiled at Jake who immediately forgot about what he and Bonnibel were talking about.

“I’m not sure how I feel about being the third wheel again.”

“Oh please. It’s not like you can’t bring a date of your own.” Lady teased back knowingly. “Right hun?”

“Totally,” Jake agreed as he got out of the pool and accepted a towel from Lady. “Aren’t you and Marceline back together?”

Bonnibel could not help the heat blooming on her cheeks. “What, who told you that?”

“That didn’t sound like a no.” Lady cheekily echoed Bonnibel’s earlier statement.

“I saw Elle’s post online. Who knew she was such a metalhead though? I never thought she’d be a fan of The Scream Queens.” Jake chuckled.

“She said you both went back to your house after you stopped by at Betty’s,” Lady remarked casually glancing at her nails.

“She posted that?” Bonnibel sat up in her chair in disbelief. “How dare she publicly insinuate that anything happened—”

“Whoa, chill out PB. She told me personally. Look, here’s what she posted.” Lady unlocked her phone and showed her a photo. It was screenshot of a status posted by Elle which had a couple of photos that were obviously taken in secret, judging from their low, zoomed-in quality where two people were heading toward a spotless white car. Bonnie recognized herself and her own Porsche Cayenne. They had their backs turned in the photo but Marceline’s face was visible from the side.

Lady tossed her an amused glance before settling beside Jake on a pool chair. Bonnibel was busy glowering at the phone screen. The caption read: _Marceline from The Scream Queens dropped by at the cafe where I work!!! Too bad she was with her new girlfriend or else I could’ve got a selfie! *displeased emoji*_

“Ugh I knew she’d do something like this. Nobody’s supposed to know.” Bonnie muttered and returned Lady’s phone. The other girl frowned at her.

“So you never planned on telling me that you’re back with your ex?” Lady huffed.

“We're not back together,” Bonnibel explained quietly. “She literally just showed up out of the blue. We hung out for a while over coffee until her producer called. So she had to leave and that was it.”

“But why isn’t anyone supposed to know?”

“Oh, The Scream Queens are having a homecoming show this weekend. It’s supposed to be a surprise for their fans here, so Marceline said to keep things quiet for now. We just got coffee at Betty’s and Elle was on her shift.”

“Was it a date?” Lady prodded.

“No.”

Lady raised a brow skeptically. “Did you guys kiss?”

There was nothing she could do to stop her cheeks from growing warmer. “Don’t judge me.”

“I knew it!” Lady snorted, but quickly turned thoughtful, “Oh boy…”

Bonnie huffed, arms crossed. “What? It was really gentle and nice.”

Lady made a doubtful noise and said, “OK, I like Marceline and all, and you were kind of okay together…”

“Kind of?”

“Well you guys fought a lot. But you were great at peace time, likely after a round of make up sex.”

Jake, who was already in the pool house stuffing himself with bacon and toast paused from chewing to laugh out loud.

“Lady!” Bonnie protested in embarrassment.

“Oh, go ahead and tell me it isn’t true.” A pause. Bonnie didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Lady laughed triumphantly.

Bonnie sighed. “Can you not remind me of how we never worked out?”

“Sorry, that was evil,” Lady’s tone softened. “I’m just concerned. It’s Marceline, your super hot but super arrogant ex.”

“Yeah, but. It was like I met a new person,” Bonnie explained. “She didn’t make a distasteful remark, not once.” She laughed.

“Seriously? What, is she all dark and mysterious now?” Lady was incredulous and Bonnibel thought she had the right to be. The Marceline they first met made quite a strong impression.

“She was always like that, just minus the rudeness lately. You’d be surprised,” said Bonnie almost excitedly. “She’s still her, but more mature I think.”

“Look, I don’t want to get you all gassed up about her, but I don’t think what you’re saying is entirely true.”

Bonnie’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s just say when you were still together, you were a good influence on her. And obviously you’re not together anymore, so…”

“Are you saying she regressed without me?” Bonnie thought it ludicrous. “I can’t really see that. She’s totally different now. I think.”

“No, it’s like… I’m not sure how to put it. Jake told me about what happens in their after parties and well--Marceline lives like a total rockstar.”

“Isn’t that exactly what she is?” Bonnie deadpanned.

“I’m talking about after parties, B. Booze, women, drugs… Especially women, from what I heard from Finn. He went to one of their shows and got invited to the party. He told Jake all about it, right Jake? And before you say anything defensive,” Lady interrupted a retort poised on Bonnie’s lips, “There are videos online.”

Jake nodded solemnly but continued to eat. “After party videos and some from backstage. Guy took all of them I think, I could tell from the shaky grip.”

“Show me.” Bonnie said in a calm, even tone. A sign of tension, Lady knew.

“I’d rather not, so just take my word for it.” Lady dropped her phone into her bag with an air of finality.

“Why, you think I can’t take it?” Bonnie bluffed. She herself wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it, but she had to manage her expectations towards Marceline somehow.

“I’m sure you remember that night when you saw Marceline talking to Fionna. You weren’t even officially dating then. Honestly Bonnie, I think you scarred that girl for life!” Lady chortled behind her hand recalling the way Fionna, Marceline’s ex, had retreated nervously under Bonnie’s livid stare. The Scream Queens were opening for a local rock show, and since they finished their set long before Bonnie could wrap up her lab work that night, Marceline had no reason to expect her to turn up…to see Fionna buying her a drink for a friendly chat that looked completely different from Bonnibel’s perspective when they were huddled at a secluded corner of the room. After trying fervently to placate Bonnie with a kiss on the lips, which landed on her cheek when Bonnie turned her head, Marceline had nervously introduced them before Bonnie dragged her away for an explanation.

“Oh god, no. I was so childish,” Bonnie lamented, head in her hands. “It’s like remembering the time I stopped being friends with you in second grade.”

“You took me to see a movie with your butler and I said I didn’t like the it so you stopped talking to me for a week.” Lady laughed hysterically. “For a child prodigy, you were so lame!”

“Shut up, okay? I had zero social skills back then.” Bonnie groaned.

“Until you decided you wanted to be best friends with me, of course.” Lady reminded her with smirk.

Bonnie conceded with a grin. “Whatever. If you won’t show me, I can always use Google.”

“Wait a minute Bonnie. You said she acts different around you right? How she acts around other people shouldn’t concern you.” Jake gave her a lopsided smile.

“Thank you for being so enlightened,” Lady pecked him on the lips. “Now I feel sorry for telling you bad stuff about her.”

Bonnibel shook her head. “It’s fine. A little heads up won’t hurt. Maybe then she and I could start talking about her fame other than—” she wasn’t about to say they were inching very close towards sexting “—other than what I’ve been doing for the past couple years.” Bonnibel cleared her throat awkwardly.

“So you’ve been texting?” Lady asked.

“Yeah, only since yesterday.” Bonnibel’s phone vibrated in her hand.

Lady noticed her biting her lip. “Is that her?”

“Yeah. She said she just arrived back in town,” Bonnibel threw Lady an uncertain glance before pocketing her phone without replying. Which would be the first time she would not be replying right away to her texts.

“Invite her over.”

“Not a good idea.” Bonnibel shook her head, recalling how uncharacteristically nervous she got when she was around Marceline, and she wasn’t too eager to show Lady how she felt about her ex, whatever it was. She was still figuring it out.

“Why not? I’d like to see for myself the new dark and mysterious and not rude Marceline.” Lady added wryly.

“You’d totally blow her brains out when she sees you in that bikini too,” Jake remarked in support.

Sensing that Bonnibel was still unswayed, Lady went on. “Look, this is what’s going to happen. She said she’s back in town right? She’s gonna be asking you where you are. You’re gonna say you’re hanging out with your awesome best friend.”

Bonnie snorted at her but Lady continued, grinning, “The next thing she’s going to ask is, ‘Hey babe, where are you? Can I see you today?’” She mimicked Marceline’s low, husky tone that earned a round of laughter from Bonnibel and Jake.

“Then you’ll say you want to see her too but you can’t today because you’re booked with me. Unless…” Lady tapped her chin in faux contemplation.

Bonnibel’s phone vibrated twice. She read Marceline’s messages and suppressed an incredulous grin at Lady’s accuracy. “Fine. I’ll text her. But you guys be nice to her please.”

_______________

Bonnibel never liked waiting. The process to her was completely unproductive. She always had to do something in the in-betweens to quiet the overly-logical and often out of context conclusions her mind made when she was stagnant. Any previous benefit she derived from her yoga sessions didn’t help her now. So she swam.

Twenty-three laps later Marceline arrived, her laid back lilt echoing over the water as she emerged from the doorway. She was in a pair of ripped light jeans and black flannel, her hair tied up to uncover a pair of dime-sized plugs.

Bonnibel had stopped by the stairs and chose to reveal herself after noticing that Marceline looked just as nervous as she was. Both her hands were shoved into her pockets as Lady led her out to the pool.

“Hey, how was your trip?” Bonnibel rose out of the pool and approached her.

“Bonnie, hey.” Marceline grinned back. Her eyes darted over Bonnibel’s dripping form but quickly averted them to Bonnibel’s face. “I think I might be overdressed.”

Bonnibel was a little disappointed but she smiled welcomingly. “It’s okay. We can just hang out inside if you like.”

“Yeah, come over here Marceline. Jake’s here too.” Lady called from over the pool house.

“Hey Marceline! It’s good to see you back in town, dude! I’m really excited to see you guys play again.” Jake paused from drying his blonde hair off to crush Marceline into a hug. Marceline patted back just as excitedly.

“Good to see you too, man. So Bonnie’s told you about the show? It’s on Friday at 9, at the Red Rock Grounds. I still wish you toured with us, Jake.”

“I know. It would have been cool. Did I ever say why I declined?” Jake asked. 

“Uh, I think you said you wanted to settle down and lay low from the scene for while.”

“He asked me to marry him.” Lady answered. As she handed Marceline a drink, her ring finger twinkled as if on cue.

“Wow, that’s great! Congratulations you guys. About time, Jake.” Marceline said happily with a nudge at Jake’s arm.

“Yeah, I guess you too, Marceline.” Jake chuckled with a pointed look towards Bonnibel who had silently excused herself for Marceline and Jake to get reacquainted. She was at one of the pool chairs drying herself off with a towel.

“So what makes you think you and Bonnibel are going to work out this time?”

Marceline was a little taken aback. She hadn’t been around Lady’s no-nonsense attitude for a long time but she supposed it was to be expected. She acted no different than she did the first time Marceline tried to get a date with her best friend.

Marceline cleared her throat. “Well, I actually don’t think that. I’m hoping for it though.” She admitted with a shrug.

“You ended it pretty badly, you know.” Lady said tersely. Behind her Jake chided her to keep it cool.

“I know. Hopefully she’s forgiven me for that.” Marceline retorted quickly. She refused to play defensive, knowing that Lady probably never even heard her side of the story. It was a little too late for a rehash anyway.

“I think she has. It’s been a long time.” Jake reassured her. It dissipated the tense mood from Lady’s interrogation.

“From what I heard, she seems quite taken with the new Marceline.” Lady smiled and followed Jake’s lead. If Marceline hadn’t been battling with an old pugnacious inclination of hers, she would have been amused at how easily Jake tamed his woman.

“Honestly I’m still me. I’ll be around as long as she’ll still have me.” Marceline declared plainly with a look outside where Bonnibel was. Jake and Lady refused to detain her any longer.

“You can thank me later for inviting you over. You might need this.” Lady handed her another mimosa with a smirk. Marceline accepted it gratefully and stepped outside.

As soon as Bonnibel heard footsteps, she turned to see Marceline coming up behind her.

“Is that for me?” Bonnibel pointed to the glass in Marceline’s hand.

“Yes, and have I mentioned that I’ve never seen you day drinking before,” Marceline remarked as she handed Bonnibel the mimosa.

The other girl just smiled and patted the spot beside her on the chair. “Don’t worry, it’s dry. I wiped it.”

“Thanks.” Marceline said as she settled beside her. The towel draped over Bonnibel’s shoulders fell down on one side to reveal her bare shoulders, a slight tan already forming. Marceline’s warm breath tickled her skin there. She had to suppress a shudder.

“You always looked great in that bikini.” She admitted breathlessly with a quick glance over Bonnibel’s form.

“I’m glad you finally noticed.” Bonnibel blurted out. Then she laughed and covered her mouth. “That was a weird thing to say. This is why I don’t ever day drink _or_ night drink.” She finished her glass anyway.

“It’s not weird. We were texting about it. It shouldn’t be weird to talk about it face to face.” An irreverent smile tugged at the corners of Marceline’s lips.

Warmth crept across Bonnibel’s cheeks at recalling their recent texts. Sexting had never been their thing. Perhaps that was why she felt it was safe to engage in it, initiate it even. It carried no hints of the past, _their_ past, fraught with mistakes they both left unchecked. She needed no reminder of that. Marceline was here now and she felt so new, so beautiful and so full of possibility. The only way to her was forward.

Marceline tugged the towel up to cover Bonnibel’s shoulders again when the latter shivered from a light breeze.

“You must getting cold. You should go change.” Marceline suggested. The hint of concern in her voice made Bonnibel’s chest tighten.

Bonnibel wrapped the towel around herself and nodded. “I think I will. Might take a while.”

As she stood up and walked towards the house, she felt Marceline’s gaze linger on her. When she looked back, she was right.

“Aren’t you coming?” She asked before proceeding inside. Eager footsteps followed.

She didn’t mind at all if it was _fast_ forward.

_______________

When they entered Lady’s immaculate room, Bonnibel discreetly locked the door behind her as Marceline sat down on the armchair by the window.

“This is a thing now, is it? Me waiting for you while you shower.” Marceline said as she sat back leisurely.

“I guess so. I have to thank you for being so patient lately.” She made her way to Marceline. She plopped herself on an armrest, just inches away from Marceline’s lap.

“Yeah, I’d like a proper thank you to be honest.” Marceline shifted in her seat and faced Bonnibel fully to show her that she was dead serious in this demand. This time she pushed the towel off of Bonnibel’s shoulders and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

Bonnibel’s pulse quickened at her touch. Bonnibel bit her lip in barely concealed excitement as it finally registered. So many things had changed about Marceline but the essentials were still there; still insufferable in her own way, still as captivating with an added mystique. The same crisp, redolent smell mixed with a little tobacco.

She closed her eyes and leaned in.

“I think we should stop sexting. It’s really, really frustrating.” Bonnibel admitted with a cute laugh.

Marceline cupped her nape and grinned. “Yeah, I prefer the real thing myself.”

They kissed slowly and softly, both of them melting into the other’s touch; as if they both weren’t frantically building trenches of caution to tide over the hunger that came in furious waves. Marceline knew she would fail in this endeavor. The chlorine from Bonnibel’s hair and the hint of alcohol in her breath barely concealed the girl she knew and had loved; the control evident from her position on the armrest was so very Bonnie and she wanted to destroy it.

Bonnibel propped her hands against Marceline’s shoulders while their lips caressed each other, knowing that if she so much as brushed against Marceline’s lap, she was a goner.

“I missed you.” Marceline whispered. She found Bonnibel’s bare legs and started pulling her closer.

Bonnibel felt as if her heart was going to leap out of her chest. “I missed you too. I-I don’t like it very much.”

Marceline laughed softly. “Me neither. Come here.”

At that, Bonnibel slid willingly on to her lap. Their kiss could only deepen. Bonnibel sighed against her lips. All her worries were ousted by Marceline’s hands that began to roam over the skin of her legs. Her fingertips skimmed the edge of her one piece at a spot on her hip. Unconsciously her own grip on Marceline’s shoulders had tightened until she clawed at the back of Marceline’s head to pull her into a ferocious kiss. Marceline reciprocated with just as much enthusiasm and pulled Bonnibel even closer.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“B, you in there?” Lady called from outside. If Bonnibel hadn’t been busy being groped, she would have noticed the utter lack of inquiry in Lady’s tone.

Bonnibel pulled away and ran a hand through her hair. Marceline sank back into the chair dejectedly but managed to smile at her. “Go shower then I’ll take you home, yeah?”

Bonnibel pecked her on the lips before getting up. “In that case, I think I’ll just shower at home.”

She unlocked the door to let Lady and Jake inside the room, her gaze locked on Marceline the whole time.

Jake stood and paused in the middle of the room, nostrils flaring. “I smell pheromones in here.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's short and late. I'm so so busy but excuses are lame. Been wanting to show what the M rating was for because I like a good sexy scene myself, but I find myself wanting to explore romance and a dash of angst for a change. Hope you stick around anyway. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

A shower was the least of Bonnibel's priorities.

Instead she and Marceline settled comfortably on the sofa, making out slowly. Not surprisingly Marceline's hands limited themselves to Bonnibel's legs or her waist although they often dipped dangerously close to her posterior. She moaned softly when Marceline's hands descended from her waist down to hips, and sighed disappointedly when they went no further.

Marceline knew that Bonnibel always liked to begin slowly. She ought to know too that foreplay had to end sometime for actual sex to begin. Bonnibel also hoped she didn't forget a small but vital detail: Bonnibel liked being led and controlled. It was the complete opposite of what she demanded in her professional life and that was precisely how she found release in it. She undoubtedly had the best lay of her life the moment somebody showed her that she needed to relinquish control in order to feel pleasure completely. That somebody had been Marceline years ago.

Marceline simply chose an inopportune moment to show off her newfound restraint. Bonnibel had to flip her hair back and crane her neck for Marceline to start kissing her there. She hummed encouragingly as she felt Marceline drag her lips across the sensitive skin. She grabbed Marceline's wrists and placed those reluctant hands squarely on her ass. Marceline instantly squeezed the rounded cheeks with a groan before pulling Bonnibel flush against her.

They kissed more deeply this time. Bonnibel giggled against her lips. “This is more like it.”

Marceline smiled bashfully. “Forgive me, I'm underslept. But that's not a complaint. More like a... fair warning.”

“Why didn't you take a nap?” Bonnibel asked as she held Marceline's face. Dark shadows marred the skin below her eyes.

“I might have been too excited when you said I could come see you.” Marceline admitted before she continued to plant kisses below Bonnibel's ear.

“You didn't have to come over right away.”

“You sent me a photo to show me what you were wearing. You _wanted_ me to come over right away.” Marceline accused her with a low chuckle.

“But who's really to blame for that? _You_ need a lot of prodding these days.” She said as she concurrently placed Marceline's hands on her chest. Marceline dutifully squeezed.

“It's been a while. Just careful,” was all Marceline could make out between her steadily increasing breaths.

“Too careful. Or tired. Oh well.” Bonnibel's feigned disappointment gave way to a moan as familiarly deft and calloused fingers snaked underneath her swimsuit.

It must have been the right thing to say. Marceline stood up and took Bonnibel with her in one swift movement without breaking their kiss. The grunt Marceline suppressed from the effort turned into a moan when an extremely turned on Bonnibel kissed her fiercely.

“Out to prove me wrong, huh?” Bonnibel teased.

“How could I not when you want it so badly?” Marceline shot back and bounced her hips against Bonnibel's crotch, approximating what was to come.

Bonnibel gasped in surprise at Marceline's own teasing. The heat between her legs grew with every slam of Marceline's hips. She grasped desperately at Marceline's shoulders to steady herself.

“For a moment you had me thinking we'd be stuck at making out like teenagers.” She goaded.

“I'll have you _not_ thinking at all in a moment now.”

Marceline pushed her against a wall to prove her point. Her narrow hips dug into the flesh of Bonnibel's inner thighs. Their gazes locked. Bonnibel saw molten turbulence churning behind those eyes. She could see the fragile crust of Marceline's self-control crumbling at her provocations and delighted once again at the thought that she was the cause of it. It was an all too familiar feeling, that surge of pride from knowing that she could cause Marceline's undoing. But she surmised that by now she wasn't the only one who had accomplished such an effect, judging from Lady's vehement warning about Marceline's rockstar antics. She was in no position to pass judgment, but the thought definitely kept her hopes low.

She was grateful that her room was only a few steps away from where they were practically dry humping in the hallway; it left her feeling boneless. Being with Marceline again this way was overwhelming. An onslaught of emotions were at the brink of invading her thoughts, stayed only by Marceline's increasingly eager exploration of her anatomy. _What happens when this is all over? What happens when she leaves town again? What do_ I _want to happen?_ She was always well-prepared for all possible outcomes but her brain, for all its brilliance, had the tendency to malfunction when Marceline was around.

The fabric covering Bonnibel's breasts was roughly pushed aside and with a brush of Marceline's tongue, all tactical preparations for the possible consequences of sleeping with her ex flew out the window.

 

* * *

 

 

Bonnibel stepped out of the bathroom in a terry cloth robe, pausing at the threshold at the sight of the empty, chaotic bed. Marceline had insisted that she take her time in the bathroom. Now Bonnibel wondered if the other woman was surveying her house in her absence. Not that she had anything to hide; still she would have preferred giving her a tour herself. A faint sound of bottles clinking against each other told her that Marceline was currently raiding her fridge.

Marceline's button up shirt lay crumpled on the bed, the black flannel peeking out from the tumble of white sheets. She picked it up revealing Marceline's cellphone in the process. It lit up as notifications popped up on the screen: 12 missed calls and 18 messages, one of them referencing a video shoot. An unhappy knot formed on her brow as she set the phone aside on her bedside table and folded Marceline's shirt. She knew that only meant that the musician would be leaving soon.

“Hey, you're looking fresh.” A touch on her shoulder drove away her thoughts. When she turned and stood up, she was met with a pair of arms locking around her body. Pleasantly surprised, she melted into the embrace. She could get used to being greeted this way. The taller woman audibly sniffed her as they hugged and felt her lips on her head.

“Where have you been?” Bonnibel muttered against her shoulder with eyes closed.

“Exploring. Your house is huge. How can you stand living here all by yourself? I even thought of letting you keep Schwabl for company.”

Bonnibel pulled away just enough to look up at her. “Are you serious? Did you bring him here with you?”

“No, but now I wish I did.”

“You know I'd spoil him rotten, right?” She missed Marceline's poodle dearly and could only hope he hadn't forgotten her yet.

Marceline concurred with a serious nod. “I do know that. I also know he'll cockblock anyone who tries to date you so I think this would be a really good home for him while I'm away. Nice yard, lots of room, great neighborhood.”

Bonnibel grinned with her bottom lip between her teeth to suppress giddy laughter. “Your attempts at being romantic, Marceline—”

“Are funny but on the money right?” Marceline interposed, her viridescent eyes shining with mirth. Bonnibel could only kiss her in response with the smile still on her lips.

“So... I was in your kitchen earlier and I found some macarons. You, uh, made them didn't you?” Marceline asked with a timid expression.

Bonnibel nodded, fully knowing that Marceline ate every last one of them. “They were good huh?”

“Just perfect.” She grinned guiltily.

“Did you eat the ones on the top shelf?” Bonnibel asked and began to lead Marceline by the hand out to the kitchen.

“There's more?” The dark haired woman gasped behind her. Bonnibel snorted in amusement as a good memory played out in her head. Marceline liked to eat a lot despite what her fit frame would tell. It endeared her to Bonnibel's parents immediately the first time she joined the Berenburgs for dinner. Bonnibel hadn't been nervous to introduce her girlfriend at all but Marceline was a jittery wreck who somehow ended up confessing her love for Mrs. Berenburg when dessert, rote grutze, was served. She had gently informed Marceline that it was actually Pep, not her, who made the dish.

According to Marceline, it was borne from her youthful effort at gaining more weight so she could stand up to her bullies, larger girls who didn't look like they belonged in high school, let alone an all-girls one (Bonnibel tried not to laugh when she saw the photos of a scrawny younger Marceline sulking in her uniform skirt) which eventually lead her to the weight room. The results were certainly nothing to laugh about now, Bonnibel thought as she furtively assessed Marceline's filled out physique which summoned more recent memories of what transpired in her room where she had thoroughly reacquainted herself with that body.

When they arrived at the kitchen she took out a box from the fridge and placed it next to the one Marceline had emptied with her voracious appetite. Marceline immediately began devouring the pastry with gusto. Bonnibel shook her head disapprovingly as she poured her a glass of water. “Here, before you choke. You still eat too fast.”

Marceline snorted, drinking from the glass carefully before speaking. “Sorry, I forgot I was around royalty. Thank you.”

The comment earned her a half-hearted swat on her arm. “And still insufferable. Got into my pants and now you're not so shy.” Bonnibel shot back with a smirk. Marceline laughed out loud in sheer amusement.

“Well, you didn't like it very much when I tried to take things slow. I was just aiming to please. From the sound of things I think I succeeded.” She grinned, causing Bonnibel to simply roll her eyes in response knowing that a blush was spreading across her skin.

“Man these are so good, I could eat these all day.” Marceline polished off the last piece with a contented sigh. “I miss your cooking so much.”

Bonnibel's heart soared. Her previous apprehensions all seemed trivial now that she knew that she could still please Marceline. Surely whatever arrangements she had with other women couldn't compare to what they shared.

“Are you still hungry? I could make you something.” She heard herself offer.

Marceline was already gazing at her in gratitude. She honestly missed how simple it was to make the other woman happy. As if to affirm her thoughts, Marceline put her water down to tug Bonnibel's hand for her to come closer. She complied, her pulse accelerating under Marceline's touch and the nonexistent distance between their bodies. Resting her hands at the small of Bonnibel's back, Marceline lowered her head to plant a firm kiss on her lips. The musician's eyes, green in the light but now a deep shade of hazel, locked her in place with whatever words Marceline was not saying. But the longing in them echoed Bonnibel's own.

“I would really like that. But I have to go soon,” was her unhappy reply to Bonnibel's offer.

“Oh, okay,” Bonnibel's arms which were folded over Marceline's shoulders loosened their grip in disappointment “Do you have to go right now?” she dared to ask in a plaintive tone, hoping to get Marceline to stay despite what she saw on her cellphone.

“In a few minutes, yes,” Marceline said but all the while backing Bonnibel against the counter in a more confident replay of their first meeting. Bonnibel hummed in surprise, less at the mismatch between Marceline's words and her actions, and more at the pressure of Marceline's hips against hers. “Spend it with me,” she whispered, lips ghosting against Bonnibel's.

Her arms went back up to bring Marceline's lips down to her own, deepening the kiss by opening her mouth. Her fingers played with the cropped hairs at Marceline's nape, realizing that she must have previously donned an undercut underneath the layered shoulder-length hair that she had tied up for today. An image search of Marceline Abadeer revealed a multitude of hair styles, although she never colored her hair. But she would never admit to Googling Marceline unless her life depended on it.

All of her thoughts were brushed away when Marceline ran her hands down her body through her robe. The terry cloth material provided the unexpected friction in certain areas...

“I wonder what you're thinking about,” Marceline breathed against her neck as her hands continued to roam the contours of her body. She shuddered, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin.

“You. Just you, Marcy.” She confessed, her voice laced with affection as her hands did some exploring on their own under Marceline's t-shirt. Their earlier tryst had been debauched and hungry, but now that she'd found out that they were just as good, if not even better in bed as they were before, this time she wanted to know if it wasn't just her fans that Marceline came all this way for.

She would do everything to make Marceline choose her; she'd call the office first thing on Monday, negotiate to choose her own off days, whatever it took. The burst of resolve she suddenly felt surprised her. She unwittingly frowned in thought prompting Marceline to call her attention.

“Doesn't look like you're too happy thinking about 'just me'.” She teased.

Bonnibel shook her head and put on a reassuring smile. “You have no idea how happy I am right now.” She picked up where she left off and dragged her manicured nails lightly up Marceline's obliques. They contracted, reacting to her touch. Her fingers descended to the edge of Marceline's pants, teasingly dipping into the waistband of her underwear. With a growl, Marceline prevented her from going any further by pulling her hips away.

“Uh-uh. Not now. I have to go. Besides you already sucked me dry.” Marceline rasped lowly as she gripped Bonnibel's wrist.

Bonnibel bit her lip, recalling the moment when it was her turn to please Marceline; the way she had stared down at her intensely and gripped her hair in pleasure, her eyes darkening dangerously the same way they did now. She sat herself up on the marble counter top and whispered, “That’s too bad. Well, I hope you don’t miss me too much.” She locked Marceline's waist between her legs, pulling her closer to her heat.

Marceline groaned, her face marred by a growing but fettered desire. Her grip on Bonnibel's body just on the threshold of painful. “I know this move. Not fair, babe.” She caught Bonnibel's lips and nipped it in mild annoyance.

The old pet name sent Bonnibel's heart aflutter no matter how much she tried to brush it off by slipping her tongue inside Marceline's mouth and digging her heels into Marceline’s thighs, luring her into her body. She loosened the knot on the belt of her robe. It fell open just enough to reveal a matching set of pink underwear.

Marceline rested her forehead against Bonnibel's, shutting her eyes in an attempt to douse the flames she had carelessly started herself. “If I don't stop now I'll never be able to leave.”

 _Then stay with me._ Bonnibel caught herself from saying it out loud. But she had to say something that wouldn't sound so needy. So she opted for sultry, which always worked. “This will be waiting for you when you come back.” She trailed a suggestive hand down where her robe parted. Marceline's own blush visibly intensified.

“Dammit Bonni.” She said, her voice rough with arousal. She licked her lips unconsciously before retreating from the counter with more resolve, leaving Bonnibel to remain in her suggestive position. Marceline sighed in frustration at the sight of her. Bonnibel grinned triumphantly but decided to have mercy on her for now; tying her robe shut, she descended to the floor and slung her arms around the taller woman.

“I'm really happy you came to see me today. I know how busy you are.” She acknowledged soberly. “Thank you.”

Marceline stroked her cheek gently. “I'll always come through for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, gimme my board. I wanna go home. Tired.” Guy groused as his gaze barely followed Marceline's figure carving out a back and forth track along the recesses of an empty swimming pool. It was the nth attempt at getting his board back but Marceline insisted on one more round every time.

“One more!”

Guy puffed up his cheeks in annoyance at seeing Marceline do another blunt fakie. “Did you have a Red Bull before the shoot or something?” He threw his hands up in surrender before turning to the picnic table where Keila and Bongo were watching the raw footage taken earlier. The film crew had packed up moments ago but the four of them opted to stay for a little while to enjoy the place. It was a private skate park belonging to a pro skater who happily lent them the place for filming. Though he was out of town, he'd given them free access to the beer in the maintenance shed.

He sat next to Keila after he took the last can from the six pack. Bongo was busy watching his own scenes from the footage on a laptop while Keila was on her cellphone. They looked just as exhausted but Keila managed to toss him an amused grin.

“Come here. I'm deciding which one of your tricks we'll put on the video, but since they're all nearly perfect...”

Guy hid a smug look behind a shrug. “Must be why this one's practicing all night trying to get on my level.” He pointed at Marceline's direction.

“Oh that one, I think she got laid. She's especially annoying tonight.” Keila laughed with a shake of her head. “Sorry dude, you're tied 1-1.”

“More like 1-0,” Guy remarked dejectedly. “She makes it look so easy. Are lesbians DTF all the time or what?”

“Actually things move pretty slowly. That right, Bongo?”

Marceline popped off the coping and landed beside Bongo whose headphones isolated him from the conversation. He fist bumped Marceline with a wide oblivious grin. She finally handed the skateboard to Guy who was too curious to feel relieved at getting his board back. “We've been here a few days and you already got laid. Yeah, I'd say that is pretty slow. For you, that is.”

“Who said I got laid?” Marceline directed an accusatory frown at Keila who remained unfazed. “Well it's not like I expected stuff to happen. Not with Bonni especially...”

“Whoa, hold up. Bonnibel Berenburg actually took your debauched ass back?”

Marceline huffed in annoyance at his incredulous tone. If there was anyone who knew her insecurities better than she did herself, it was Guy. Their similar personalities inevitably had to clash before they eventually found a way to mesh well together. It hadn't helped either that Guy knew Bonni even before Marceline met her which gave him something to hold over Marceline's head. It only further sparked the (mostly friendly) competition between them back then.

“I know you have like zero confidence in me but you could fucking tone it down a little bit, you know?” Marceline spat and snatched the beer from his hands.

“Dude, I'm sorry. You know I was just kidding!” Guy's face twisted in remorse clearly not expecting Marceline's hostile reaction. Usually the frontwoman had a clapback at the ready. He watched as Marceline gulp his beer down in one go. He normally would have complained but now was not exactly a good time.

Marceline tossed the empty can aside and grinned irreverently. “I know. I just wanted your beer.”

Keila burst into laughter beside him. “2-0!”

“You're such a bitch, Marcy.” Guy shook his head and scowled at her bitterly. “You owe me a beer.”

Marceline sat next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Sure man. Sorry, I just couldn't pass that up.” She sniggered.

“I hope she sees those after party videos of you. Have you told her how lit your 2015 was?” Guy jeered.

“Hell no. I'll tell her about them but now is not the time. Besides she shouldn't care. She had like three relationships after we broke up.” Marceline shrugged in nonchalance, hoping her face didn't betray her.

“How did you know that?”

“She stalked Bonni's Instagram through my account which was a mistake because she accidentally 'hearted' a really old post and now Bonni probably thinks that _I_ was stalking her.” Keila disdained with a shake of her head. She ignored the beseeching look on Marceline's face.

“So are you back together or was it just a hook up?” Guy pressed.

A contemplative sigh escaped Marceline. “You know it could never be just a hook up with her.”

Guy shrugged. “I don't know, you never gave me a chance to sleep with her.”

“Even though you're a pussy, your chances with her are still zero.” Marceline tightened her hold around his neck.

He squirmed out of her grip and pushed her away with a laugh. “Keila's right, you're extra annoying tonight. _That good_?”

“I don't even know how I managed to leave her house, man.” Marceline shook her head unable to fully believe what happened. They all laughed, Bongo's rich baritone now included.

“Is she going this Friday?” Bongo asked fully tuning in to the conversation.

“Yeah. Kinda makes me nervous knowing she'll be watching.” Marceline confessed and bit her lower lip worriedly.

“You can't be eyefucking women on stage anymore.” Guy interjected. “I could take over that job—”

“You'll ruin the whole show!” Keila protested emphatically.

“Actually Guy has a lot of fans here,” Marceline acknowledged. “You know what some people on reddit say? They want Guy to play the keyboard again. I've been listening to a lot of new stuff lately and I was thinking maybe we could bring that back. What do you guys say?”

“Oh I'm following your Spotify playlist, Marcy. I'm down for a fresh sound.” Their drummer said. Guy and Keila made approving noises.

“We'll talk about it after this whole thing is over and after a nice, long vacation.” Keila sighed heavily echoing everyone else's sentiments.

“So Marcy, after the last leg in Vegas—have you decided what to do yet?” Bongo asked.

Marceline leaned back against the table to look up at the starless night sky thinking of how to respond. She could feel her exhaustion again now that she finally allowed herself to relax. It was a little strange how energetic she was on this tour in particular. Their tours in the past had been nothing short of punishing. Her fatigue foreclosed any chance to talk to her bandmates like this and the last time she could remember them just hanging out together was last year, after they finished the album tour for their latest EP. She could see that same energy in them too.

Marceline scanned their tired but happy faces. “Am I the only who hasn't decided?”

Keila nodded. “We all want to come home.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still following this story at all, you might be glad to know that intend to finish this. In fact I have the whole thing outlined already. My hectic career just gets in the way of finishing sooner. Hope you enjoyed this one in the meantime!


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